


Heal

by Violette_Witch



Series: Supernatural drabbles [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Please just let my boy be soft and loved, it's what he deserves, memories of hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Witch/pseuds/Violette_Witch
Summary: Eileen wakes from a nightmare, still haunted by the years she spent in Hell. Sam does his best to comfort her, though her trauma brings back memories of his own.
Relationships: Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/500101
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Heal

Sam woke with a start as he felt Eileen bolt upright beside him, the endings of a scream echoing in the room. He called her name, scrambling to turn on the lamp. 

“Eileen,” he repeated, the light illuminating their faces. He gently placed a hand on her back as she gasped for breath, _are you ok?_ he signed when she turned to look at him.

She took a moment to respond, nodding as she struggled to even her breathing, “Nightmare,” she said shakily. Sam looked at her, worry painted over his face. She met his eyes, understanding the question in them, and admitted, _Hell._

Sam felt his stomach plummet. He knew all too well the way those memories haunted; how they could fill even the waking mind with a dread that never fully went away, no matter how many years had passed… it hadn’t been too long ago since he’d woken, drenched in sweat, his own memories of Hell vividly pressing themselves into his mind. Not long at all. 

He pulled Eileen toward him, wrapping his arms protectively around her. “It’s ok,” he breathed into her hair, “you’re here, you got out, you’re safe.” He knew that she couldn’t hear him, but he needed to say it; if only for himself.

She melted into him, taking deep breaths in time with his. He could feel her heartbeat gradually start to slow against his chest. He kissed the top of her head, then rested his chin on it, hugging her even tighter, glaring into the dark room, as if he were daring the demons to try and drag her back, to try and take her away from him again.

Outwardly, Sam often tried to look on the bright side. He searched for reasons to be grateful, reasons to keep believing in hope. But inwardly … sometimes he was just furious. His own traumas were one thing, he’d learned to set his jaw and keep moving forward through the pain. But for Eileen – the fact that she had been dragged to Hell, been down there, tortured, for longer than he or Dean had been, the years stretching into centuries they way they did in Hell … the thought of it hurt him in a way he couldn’t articulate. _She_ didn’t deserve that. She could never deserve that.

A few moments passed – or it could have been hours – the two of them clinging to each other, _breathing in_ each other, until a sense of calm finally started to chase away the shadows. Eventually, Eileen pulled back, trying to smile reassuringly at Sam, although he could still see the pain in her eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked quietly.

She swallowed, shaking her head, “I don’t …. Know how?” she admitted, her voice raising up like a question on the last word, and Sam understood. There were some things that couldn’t be put to words, and others that perhaps … it was better not to try.

“Maybe,” she said after a moment, _in sign?_ Sam had been picking up ASL quickly, and although he still didn’t consider himself fluent, he understood enough. And he understood that for Eileen, it was a native language, more natural and expressive than speaking.

And so, she signed to him. The ideas were choppy, unlike the way she usually signed, filled with pain and confusion; memories all twisted together. She wasn’t telling a story, she was sharing a feeling, occasionally vocalizing in sounds that weren’t words yet held more meaning than words could. When she finished, there were tears running down her face. Sam reached out gently to wipe them away and she leaned into his touch _. I understand,_ he told her somberly, and he did. He understood exactly how she was feeling, because everything she had signed, every expression that had passed over her face, could be used to describe his time in The Cage. His had been a more personal Hell, trapped with Lucifer, but despite the differences in their experiences, the pain that they left was the same.

_How long did it take, for you to … heal?_ She asked, breathing shakily.

Sam hesitated before answering. He knew what the right thing to say was. He wanted to tell her that it got better, than the scars would fade and one day it would all be a faint memory. He wanted to lie. But it had been almost 10 years for him, and though the nightmares had lessened, he was still haunted by the experience. He didn’t have an easy answer, and he was tired of lying.

“I don’t think I have,” he told her honestly, a sad smile pulling at his lips. Knowing that Lucifer was dead had helped, and after everything that had happened with Nick … well, he was just glad he never had to see that face again. But even if Lucifer was gone, the memories weren’t. 

She looked at him sadly, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. “Do _you_ ,” she asked, “want to talk about it?”

Sam’s mouth was dry, and he let out a nervous huff of laughter, or maybe it was closer to a sob, “I don’t think I can.” He had told her the stories. She knew about everything; Azazel, the demon blood, the apocalypse, losing his soul and getting it back again only to have the wall in his mind crash down on him with hallucinations, then watching his best friend, and later his brother, become monsters. It was more than he’d ever shared with anyone; Jessica, Amelia, they had never known about his world, let alone his whole life story. He could share all that with Eileen, but Hell – Lucifer. Mixed in with all the things he’d been through, all the different ways he had been torn apart … he couldn’t. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t understand. He knew she would; better than anyone in the world, maybe even better than Dean, but … his throat felt coated in something, and he couldn’t form the words, even if he’d known what to say.

Eileen nodded, her eyes tracing over his face. She understood; she’d shared what she could with him, and that was enough for tonight. There was still pain and fear in her eyes, and worry lined her face. He wished that he could take that all away, that he could make her smile and forget the hurt she carried. And he knew she wished the same for him.

Eileen leaned up, pulling him down to meet her, and she kissed him tenderly. Her fingers tangled in his hair and he breathed out, letting himself find comfort in her warmth, in her weight pressed against his body as they lay back onto the bed. He hadn’t known how to say it but … having her; it helped. It helped everything. When she’d first come back, he’d been scared; the last thing he’d wanted was something else to lose. Someone else to be hurt because of him. But he hadn’t lost her. She’d come back to him. And as broken as he was, she had chosen to stay.

Maybe, together, they could piece themselves back together. Maybe one day, they would learn how to be healed. 

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in some ambiguous time where all the horrible things are over and Sam gets to have a soft epilogue with Eileen (and probably a dog) like he deserves. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about ASL, I just love Eileen and I was waxing poetic. I apologize if the way I described stuff doesn't make any sense.


End file.
